you point
to
the wound
in a tree
and
to
the mouth
of a cave
explain
they both
are
inner-eye
gateways
entered into
by split-heart
meditation
opening deeper
into to a one-way
realm
like hank
& dante
knew
so well
you say
the ancients
hunker down
there
in the dark
green
there
teeth
are coins
for passage
and
your tongue
is taken
as a savoury
there
love
is pure
violence
or vice-versa
depending
on
bird flight
let’s go
you shout
like a kid
I say okay
but
mud numbs
my mouth
chokes
my heart
this spirit
water
lukewarm
vodka
to shoot
a cooper’s
hawk
cuts
clouds
me left with
only
your finger
on a rock
far away
someone
laughs
barks
picks
johnny
thunders
on a martin d-28
Sean Meggeson is a poet, lecturer, psychoanalytic psychotherapist and moto-punk wannabe. He lives in Toronto, Canada and every time one of his poems gets published, his Swedish Vallhund gets a treat. His poems can be found in In Parentheses, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Stink Eye Magazine and elsewhere. One poem soon to appear (woof, woof!) in Uppagus magazine. Find him at @lippykookpoetry and www.lippykookpoetrymachine.blogspot.com
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